


A Work of Art

by AudreyV



Category: Flashpoint
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, First Time, Late Night Conversations, Locker Room, Rape/Non-con References, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-05
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 09:19:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/pseuds/AudreyV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A war raged in Donna's brain as she regarded Jules carefully.  She wondered how much of the moment was the fault of the alcohol and how much was her own wishful thinking.  The logical part of her demanded she retreat to the safety of her cozy apartment, but it was fighting a losing battle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Work of Art

**Author's Note:**

> I finally saw the finale the other day and felt compelled to finally finish this, an attempt I'd made at filling a prompt from the Fourth Annual Femmeslash Kink Meme, which was "Flashpoint: Jules/Donna, locker room sex." 
> 
> I've only seen one or two Donna/Jules stories, and I think it's because it's nearly impossible to write the pairing and stay true to Jules as she is in canon. In the end I decided to let Jules be somewhat out of character, because it's Donna's story. 
> 
> This is AU and is set in Season 4, between "Personal Effects" and "The Cost of Doing Business."
> 
> And for my fellow JAM fans... you might want to skip this one.

Donna turned the water pressure up until it was stinging the skin of her back, then she let her mind wander until it started to let go of some of the burdens of the day.

There were good days and bad days, but this was just a day, completely routine. No bloodshed, and they kept the peace, but for some reason she was still wound tight. The shower would help, and going home to her comfortable couch and a good book would help, but in the moment the tension still throbbed and irritated. 

She shampooed her hair and let her mind wander. She thought about the canyon she hiked in as a teen and the way the light hit the edges of the cliff that were almost touching heaven. Her tiny apartment, each item in it carefully chosen to enhance her enjoyment of the space: a thick rust-orange rug that gripped her toes as she walked barefoot, the mirror with the silver edges that reminded her of her grandmother's house, the reproduction of her favorite Rembrandt painting. She’d framed it herself, twice actually, because the light wood of the first attempt didn’t do it justice. Everything about the space was wholly intentional, even though it was a rare day that she spent more than an hour there awake enough to enjoy it. 

She’d seen the real Rembrandt in a museum years before and had been shocked by its size and the detail of the work. Her reproduction couldn't hold a candle to the real thing, but it was hers, and that was the important thing. 

Donna was great at falling for things that she could never have-- Rembrants, dogs that she couldn't be near without sneezing violently, people who were excruciatingly unavailable. She assumed it was a defense mechanism, one that kept her job from hurting anyone else, but it meant that she would leave tonight and go home to her perfect, beautiful, empty apartment even though she could really use the comfort of a lover. 

As she watched the soap swirling in the drain, she silently scolded herself for being so melancholy. What she had suited her, and if that changed, she'd do something about it. 

She wrapped a thick towel around her body, then leaned on the shower wall for a moment, enjoying the warmth of the steam as she stretched the muscles of her shoulders. 

"--totally out of line, Constable!" a familiar voice floated through the door, the words sharp but the tone playful. Donna tensed, realizing they probably didn't know she was in the next room. 

"Everyone's gone home. C'mon Jules." she heard a bit of shuffling and then a giggle. 

Donna made a point of not prying into her colleagues’ personal lives, but she'd heard the same rumors that everyone else had about constables Callaghan and Braddock. She knew they'd been involved but also that Callaghan’s return to the team had been conditional on the end of their relationship. She was also a good enough profiler that she had guessed months ago that they’d decided to violate Toth's direct order. 

What she had not guessed is that she would find herself, wearing only a towel, trapped by them in the locker room shower. 

There was no graceful exit from this predicament. If she called out or turned on the water, they'd know that she'd been there the whole time. She suspected Callaghan would be willing to pretend it never happened, but Braddock would want to talk about it. 

She decided to wait and reevaluate. She hoped they would gather Jules' things and depart before the steam dissipated and her towel stopped being enough to keep her warm. 

She couldn't hear the words of their conversation but the tone told plenty of the story. She heard a gasp and a clatter of the lockers and her discomfort overwhelmed her. If they were at the right set of lockers, she could sneak right past them. 

Donna peeked around the doorway and froze. 

They were directly between her and the exit. Sam had his back to her as he held Jules against the row of lockers. Her fingers curled in his hair as he knelt in front of her. He was blocking Donna's line of sight but Jules's breathy exclamations left little doubt as to what he was doing. 

Donna had never been attracted to either Sam or Jules, never imagined what it would be like to take either of them to bed, but the visual was extremely arousing. She knew she shouldn't be watching, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. 

She watched as Jules's face contorted with pleasure, head tossing from side to side, dark hair snaking down her pale shoulders. A rosy flush had risen to her cheeks. 

Donna watched Jules's eyes drift closed. Feeling bolder, she let her gaze travel further down, roaming the gentle slope and swells of Jules's upper body. She was the perfect blend of toned muscles and womanly softness. As she watched one of Sam's hands snake up to caress Jules's breast, Donna couldn't help but imagine that it was her fingers circling a pert nipple, her palms seeking the softness of that delicate curving waist, her lips and tongue prompting those breathy exclamations. 

Suddenly Jules made a strangled, panicked noise and her eyes flew open. Donna ducked back, certain she'd been caught, but neither of the illicit lovers approached the shower room. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize I was so close to--"

"It's fine," Jules replied, in a tone that Donna recognized meant it was absolutely not fine. 

"You're beautiful, Julianna." There was a sadness in Sam's voice that Donna didn't understand, although she agreed with the sentiment. she held her breath, desperate to stay undiscovered.

She heard more murmured conversation, then the sound of a belt being unbuckled. She knew she shouldn't push her luck, but Donna risked another peek around the doorway. 

Sam still had his back to her, but now he was on his feet with his pants down around his ankles. Jules hooked one leg around his back, then gasped as he entered her. she wrapped her arms around him, head tipping back a little more with each slow, rhythmic movement of his hips. 

This went far beyond mere eavesdropping. Donna now had proof, hard evidence that the pair were out of line, and she wished she didn't. she'd rather be home reading, having a glass of wine and not shivering in a towel, unintentionally spying on two of her colleagues while they fucked. 

Or not so unintentionally, she thought, mesmerized by Jules's expressiveness. Her eyes were shut tight and her teeth dug into her lower lip, stifling the noises of pleasure that threatened to burst from her. Donna could see the effects of every one of Sam's movements, each shift or thrust prompting a new contortion of her face or spasm of her limbs. 

Jules's fingers dug into the skin of Sam's shoulders and the foot that hooked around his ass was pointing and flexing as she struggled for her release. She was making quiet noises of frustration as his pace increased. The lockers shuddered with their movements and Donna wondered if anyone in the men's locker room would hear or note the sound. 

She watched as Jules squirmed, obviously pushed to the edge but still unable to climax. Sam shifted position so he could slip his hand between them, stilling his thrusting as his fingers found her clit. For several moments he stroked her, continuing at a slower pace until she stopped him. 

"Sorry Sam. I just don't think it's going to work for me tonight."

Jules hadn’t meant it as a critique, but Sam's shoulders slumped. Donna knew quite well that sometimes release was elusive despite a partner's best efforts, but that wasn't something she'd want to explain to a man, particularly a sniper with a perfection complex. 

Her eyes darted back to Jules. Donna didn't need to be an excellent profiler to know that she was interpreting Sam's reaction as disappointment in her rather than in himself. These kind of communication issues were part of why Donna avoided relationships-- too much translation required. 

Sam pulled away just as Donna slid back into the shadows. He kissed Jules and said something that Donna could not hear, then dressed quickly. 

Donna waited for Jules to do the same, but after several moments the room was still completely silent. She crept back to the doorway to check to make sure that the petite sniper hadn't left without her noticing. 

Jules was sitting on one of the benches. She'd redressed her lower half, but her top still hung open, exposing the soft curves of her breasts. She had a tattoo between them, some kind of symbol that Donna couldn't quite make out. The skin on the left side of her abdomen was puckered with red scar tissue that interrupted an otherwise unbelievably perfect expanse of woman. 

Jules looked small and sad and Donna wanted to hug her. She decided it might not be so bad to leave the shower. She’d offer a reassuring word to Jules and then they'd pretend nothing happened. 

Donna made a show of fiddling with the shower door as loudly as she could, then dropping her shampoo and cursing about it. When she emerged into the locker room, Jules was hastily buttoning her shirt. 

"Hey Callaghan. You're here late." intentionally casual. 

Pale skin bloomed with red flush, colors almost like her Rembrandt. Jules ducked her head and replied, "I had a late workout."

"Yeah? How was it?"

"Disappointing." 

Donna nodded and sat on a bench across from Jules, who regarded her intently for a moment before speaking. "You heard?"

"Yep." And saw too, but she wasn't going to volunteer that information. 

"You're gonna tell Sarge?"

"Nope. " 

"Thank you."

Donna gave her a nod then headed for her own locker, quickly pulling on underwear and a tank top so she wouldn't feel quite so naked. She was rummaging for a pair of pants when Jules spoke. 

"I think there's something wrong with me."

"What do you mean by that?"

Jules flushed deeply and shook her head. "Nothing. Forget I said anything."

A moment of silence passed before Donna continued as if Jules hadn't responded. "What makes you think there's something wrong with you?"

"I love Sam."

“Bad taste isn't the worst flaw." Donna was pleased to see Jules crack a smile. "Go on."

"I like... doing things with him. I always enjoy it but..."

"But it doesn't always ring the bell?"

"I'm a grown woman, I should know my way around by now."

Donna reached into her locker and retrieved a silver water bottle before settling on the bench across from Jules. 

"This will make talking easier," she said as she offered the bottle. 

"Truth serum?"

"Close. It's whiskey." 

Jules laughed and took a drink. She handed the bottle back to Donna who also drank. 

"There's nothing wrong with you. It happens to a lot of women."

"Does it happen to you?"

"Yes, although my life hasn't included those kinds of workouts for a while." Donna chuckled, remembering the last person she'd opened her home to and what a disaster the aftermath had been. "How often do you have this problem?"

"Sometimes. A lot of the time."

"He always react by giving up and running away?"

"No. Usually he doesn't know."

"So you fake it. Why not today?"

Jules looked at the ground before she replied, "I noticed your open locker and the steam hanging in the shower room."

"And you didn't want to let Sam know I was here because he'd want us all to talk about it.”

“Yes.”

“But you and I… we’re better than he is at going on as if things never happened. "

"Yes." 

"Okay. I assume I have permission to speak freely, since this never happened?" The bottle made another round before Jules nodded her agreement. "Maybe penetration isn't your thing. Do you get off when he goes down on you?"

"Not really."

"Okay. Let's take him out of the equation. When you're alone, what pushes you over the edge? A mental image, a particular kind of touch..."

Jules blushed a deeper shade of crimson. "I don't... I mean, I haven't...in a long time."

Donna frowned, sensing the turn the conversation was about to take. "No interest or--"

"Aversion. Because of something that happened a long time ago."

"I understand."

"Do you?" The question was full of skepticism, an odd challenge. 

“If we're both going to forget this conversation ever happened, then yeah, I understand."

Jules regarded her intently for a moment. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No. Do you?"

"Maybe. I'm surprised I brought it up at all." 

"I'll listen, but first let's find somewhere to sit that's more comfortable than these benches." 

Jules chewed on her lower lip for a moment before getting to her feet. She returned to the room moments later carrying a thick sparring mat, which she unceremoniously tossed toward a corner. 

"That'll do?" she asked, gesturing for Donna to sit. When she did, she was pleased to find that the mat was more comfortable to sit on than it was to spar on. Jules retrieved the whiskey and slid down to sit beside her. 

"What's on your mind, Jules?" 

"I... this is weird."

"Yeah?"

"It's like confession or Luria, except in the locker room."

“How's that?" Donna asked, smiling at the thought of a priest or the department shrink ending up in her position. Barely clothed, hair still damp from the shower, drawing a confession out of a hesitant Jules. 

"I clam up. Don't know where to start."

"Would it help if I asked questions?"

"Maybe."

"Okay. How many people have you had sex with?"

"Six." 

"How many of those people did you enjoy having sex with?"

"Five."

"How many of them did you have an orgasm with?"

"Two. One is Sam."

"And if you have sex with Sam a hundred times, how many times will you have an orgasm?"

Jules sighed and reached for the whiskey. "Ten, maybe."

"And what makes those times different from the other times? Is there a particular act that makes the difference?"

"No, it's... it only happens when I've had a really terrible day. That makes me sound like an awful person, but there it is."

"It makes sense. On your worst days, you're too stressed and overloaded to focus on it, so it happens on its own."

"I'd like to be able to come without people dying."

"No one died today."

"Yeah, and my boyfriend is home right now second-guessing his prowess. That bodes well for round two."

"I’d suggest that you go out and find someone else, but you don't seem like the anonymous sex type."

"Maybe this would all be easier if I was."

There was a brief silence before Donna pushed forward. "You still want to talk about it?"

"Not really. It's not relevant."

"Of course it's relevant. Having an orgasm is a very vulnerable thing. I'd bet that the reason you can come with Sam is that you trust him in a way you didn't trust your previous partners."

"I trust him with my life."

Donna hid her amusement at the absolute sincerity of the statement. "Pretty unfair that something so right could get you both canned, eh?"

"I don't think he cares."

"But you do."

"I worked my ass off to get here. If it comes down to love or the cool pants--"

"You'll break the rules to have both. I respect that."

The bottle made another round. Donna felt the warmth spreading through her body. She knew she should cut herself off, but she was enjoying the moment and didn't want to rush to its conclusion. They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes. 

"Would you do it in my position?"

"I'd do it in his." The words were out before Donna fully considered their implications. She glanced at Jules, hoping she'd missed it. 

She hadn't. Even drunk, Jules Callaghan could read between the lines. While Donna expected to see alarm on Jules's face, she found only curiosity and a hint of satisfaction, as if the other woman had just discovered a piece of the puzzle that made the larger picture clear. 

"You date women?" 

"I don't date."

"Fine. You sleep with women?"

Donna's stomach twisted. She'd fought the "dyke" rumors from the beginning of her career, and kept her personal life closely guarded. Prior to today, she couldn’t imagine discussing her sexual orientation or practices with anyone in the department. Rumors can keep ambitious women from making Sergeant, and Donna was certainly ambitious. 

But Jules couldn't tell anyone, not without fearing Donna would report her "workout" with Sam, so maybe it was safe to be honest. 

"Yes."

"Only women?"

"No. More women than men though." 

"Why's that?"

"I'm better at it. It's familiar territory. And less complicated." 

"How's that?"

"If a man is fucking you, it's about doing things that pleasure both of you, so it's a balancing act. If a woman is fucking you, it's just about you, and she has no vested interest in continuing activities that aren't working for you."

"And strap-ons don't have egos that get bruised when you can't come."

Donna was amused at how much Jules had relaxed during the course of the conversation. It was probably the whiskey, but regardless, she was pleased that the other woman felt that she could speak freely. 

"Precisely. Plus women tend to be more aware of boundaries so there are fewer... misunderstandings."

"That's a quaint way of putting it."

"I was trying to be delicate."

"In my experience, when a man 'misunderstands' boundaries, it means he doesn't care that they exist."

Donna thought of the moment earlier when Jules was startled by something Sam did. She wanted to point it out, but then she'd be forced to admit that she hadn't just innocently overheard, but had watched as well. 

"Sam ever misunderstand?"

“Of course not. He's very respectful of my boundaries."

"All of them or just the ones you've told him about?"

Jules stiffened for a moment, her hand unconsciously moving toward her left side as she replied. "It's unreasonable to expect him to know about boundaries I haven't disclosed."

"Fair enough, but talking is only one kind of disclosure. There's body language and intuition."

"You're saying women are more perceptive than men?"

"I'm saying that a woman is uniquely able to understand another woman's body and life experience."

"Mmmmm."

Donna wasn't sure what that "mmmmm" meant so she shrugged the moment off. "Is any of this helpful?"

"It is, I think." There was a pause before Jules continued. "What do you think about when you're alone?"

Donna was startled by the question; between the whiskey and the oddness of the situation she was almost inclined to answer. It occurred to her that this was probably not how other people did "girl's night."

"It varies, I guess. Sometimes it's a person, someone I used to date or a celebrity." 'And after tonight, you,' her brain added unhelpfully.

"So like Cate Blanchett?"

"More like Rose McGowan. I like brunettes." Donna kicked herself for saying it, but the dark-haired sniper didn't seem to notice. "But a lot of the time, my fantasies involve men."

"That's interesting."

"I like the concept of men, if not the reality of dating them. Anyway, there are other times when I'm not even part of my fantasies, when they're about other people."

"Watching other people?"

"Sometimes." 

"So when you realized Sam and I were out here, were you turned on?"

'No,' Donna's brain said, but what came out was "yes" because it didn't seem right to lie. "Guess we're putting it all on the table, huh?"

Jules nodded. "What was the most exciting part for you? The risk of getting caught looking? The visual?"

"The noises you were making. The way your face looked and the way your body moved."

"Because you wanted to be me?"

"Because I wanted to be doing those things to you."

Jules blushed but did not look away. "Your turn to ask the questions," she said quietly. 

"What are you thinking about?"

"That I've missed a lot and I'd like to change that."

"Too vague. What are you thinking about?"

"I'm wondering what it would be like to kiss you."

During the course of the conversation, they'd drifted closer together. Donna realized she could close the gap effortlessly, but she held back. 

"It’s still your turn." 

"Have you ever slept with a woman, Jules?"

"Not yet."

A war raged in Donna's brain as she regarded Jules carefully. She wondered how much of the moment was the fault of the alcohol and how much was her own wishful thinking. The logical part of her demanded she retreat to the safety of her cozy apartment, but it was fighting a losing battle. 

"Would you like to?" it came out unbidden and hung in the air like the steam from the shower. As soon as Donna said it, she wanted to take it back, because it was the wrong thing to say and she was tired of complications. 

"Yes."

Their eyes locked for a moment and Donna's logical brain sputtered one last protest, then went dead as Jules leaned toward her.  
Jules kissed Donna's cheek, then the corner of her mouth. The motion was hesitant but deliberate. The gentleness of the act made Donna's heart swell, although she couldn't explain exactly why. 

This was the last exit on the highway. Either she could bid Jules goodnight and head for her apartment, her comfortable chair and her Rembrandt, or she could turn her head a few millimeters and make the next kiss tell a different story. 

Donna turned toward Jules, bringing their lips together. The movement was slow but not hesitant, and she felt Jules relaxing in to the kiss almost immediately. 

Her strong fingers twined in Jules’s hair, pulling the fastener down and letting dark strands spill over slim shoulders. Moments later Jules was shuddering as fingernails scraped lightly against her scalp and sent chills down her spine. Donna's tongue coaxed her lips apart and soon neither was sure where she ended and the other woman began.

By the time Donna released her mouth and started kissing and nipping along her jawline, Jules had long ago lost herself in the moment. She tentatively reached out, running the tips of her fingers along the side of Donna's face and along the length of her upper arm. She started to let her hands drift toward more racy spots, but stopped several inches away from the peak that strained against the material of Donna's tank top.

"They don't bite," Donna murmured, guiding Jules's hand along the curve of her breast. She reached for Jules, running her hand down the side of her body, altering course when she felt the other woman tense, the reaction reminding her of the scar she'd seen earlier. She realized Sam’s roaming hands must have gotten too close to that forbidden territory and made a mental note not to make the same mistake. 

Jules slipped her hand under the hem of Donna's tank top. Later, this is one of the moments that would replay in her mind, the first time she touched smooth, soft skin with curves she could follow with her fingertips. She trailed her hands up Donna's firm stomach to her bra. Feeling a little bolder, she reached around to find the clasp and unhooked it. 

"You’re a fast learner." 

"It’s easier than guys make it seem."

Donna pulled the tank top over her head and tossed it aside, then drew the bra down off her shoulders. She kissed Jules again before pulling away to slowly unbutton the brunette's shirt. The top three buttons went swiftly, but she felt Jules tense again when she reached for the fourth. 

"We can slow this down," she said quietly, although she was almost certain Jules wouldn't take the out. "Or you can keep it on if you want."

"That hardly seems fair."

"It isn't about fair. It’s about what you're comfortable with." 

"I have a really bad scar."

"I know. And a tattoo. I saw earlier."

Jules nodded, then opened her shirt just enough for Donna to see the symbol between her breasts. 

"It’s the zodiac symbol for Scorpio." she explained before re-buttoning the shirt halfway. "I think I will keep it on, though it still seems unfair," she added as she stood. She unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans; movements deliberately slow as she pushed the denim down over her hips. 

"You’re right, this is much more fair," Donna said as smooth thighs and navy blue underwear were uncovered. She noticed several more tattoos, black etchings that she suspected all had private meanings. She wanted to trace constellations between them, to ask Jules why a butterfly and why the number 16 and why those geographic coordinates, but she knew she was lucky to get an explanation of the Scorpio tattoo. To ask more would probably startle Jules as much as inadvertently touching her scar would. 

Jules kicked the pants aside then stood in front of Donna. 

"I've never done this before," she said quietly. It was unnecessary, but Donna knew what she meant. Sam wasn’t the only perfectionist sniper in the department.  
Donna tried to think of a way to explain that everyone is fumbly the first time they do a thing, but couldn't. She wanted to reassure Jules but suspected that more talking would just keep her in her head. Instead she said, "Just think of what you like and let that guide you."

"What if I don't know what I like?"

"Then we figure it out." Donna kissed her again, pulling her into an embrace, shivering when Jules’s shirt brushed across her bare skin. She was surprised at how well the other woman fit in her arms and she decided to savor the feeling, knowing that this would not happen again. 

She cupped Jules's breast through the light fabric of her shirt, circling her hard nipple with her thumb. Jules's breathing grew faster and she leaned into the touch. Donna slipped her hand inside Jules’s shirt and was rewarded with a gasp when she rolled the pink nub between her thumb and forefinger. She added a little more pressure, a pinch that drew a soft moan. 

Jules mirrored her movements, her small hands moving fluidly over Donna's breasts, caressing and rubbing before sliding downward. Her hand rested at the top of Donna's underwear for a moment, toying with the elastic. Donna was surprised-- impressed by her boldness. 

They kissed again, but this time when they came up for air, Donna turned her attention to the side of Jules's neck. She dragged her lips along the soft skin below her ear, pausing to nip at her earlobe before leaving a faint raspberry mark on her pulse point. 

From there, she continued downward, flicking her tongue along a sharp collarbone before slipping her hand under Jules's shirt. She felt Jules shiver as she dragged her fingernails along the right side of her waist. 

When Donna glanced up, she saw that Jules had her eyes closed. She was biting her lower lip in an effort to keep quiet. Donna flashed on the moment earlier when she saw that same expression and it caused the same rush of heat to her core. She turned her attention to the center of Jules's chest, high above her breastbone, slowly moving lower. She was ready to pull away as she neared the first fastened button, but Jules unbuttoned it before she could, along with the next one down. 

Donna smiled up at her before gently kissing the skin just above the Scorpio tattoo. She felt Jules shudder as she ran her tongue around the symbol and along the curve of her breast. 

As she neared Jules's nipple, she paused to wait for an objection. When it didn't come, she flicked the pink bud with her tongue before suckling it into her mouth. Almost instantly Jules's hands were in her hair, but to her relief they were pulling her closer instead of pushing her away. 

Donna paid her respects to the tattoo again on her way to lavish attention on the other breast. This time she ran the edges of her teeth along the sensitive skin, prompting a loud moan from Jules. When she increased the pressure Jules inhaled sharply from the unexpected pain but did not pull away. 

Donna knelt at her feet and toyed with the remaining two buttons. She wouldn't push, but there was part of her that ached to feel Jules's skin against her. 

When Jules made no move for those buttons, Donna detoured. She sat back on her heels, the perfect height to lavish kisses on the curve of Jules's abdomen. She pushed the  
shirt up a bit to expose more perfect flesh as her other hand grasped at Jules's hipbone, holding her securely in place. 

As Donna memorized every nuance of Jules’s body's landscape with her mouth, her lover whimpered, twisting, trying to control the situation by bringing more of her body in contact, but Donna's hands held her firmly by the hips. 

Kisses planted around the dip of her navel, soft exhalations on her hipbone, caresses so maddeningly indirect that Jules thought she might scream in frustration. She stood firm as Donna connected the dots of her tattoos, but when she felt a tongue flicking over the numbers tattooed on her hipbone, she couldn't stand it anymore. She pulled Donna to her feet, crashing their bodies together, grasping Donna's hand and guiding it down. 

"Touch me," Jules said, arching her body into Donna's. Their eyes met as Donna’s fingers lingered just below her navel. 

“Touch me,” Jules repeated, and this time it was more order than instruction. Donna felt a rush of energy as she let her fingers drift downward, caressing Jules’ mound through the thin fabric. The heat emanating from the other woman’s core, and the wetness already soaking through the scrap of material, left no doubt that Donna was not the only one enjoying this. 

Agile fingers skirted the elastic barrier and ghosted across the soft skin they found beneath. Jules moaned, but fought to keep her eyes open. Brown eyes sought blue ones, and suddenly the intimacy of the moment hit Donna like a freight train.

"Are you sure?" she asked quietly. Her heart climbed into her throat when a moment passed without a reply, but then Jules's hand covered hers, pressing her fingers into the slick heat. 

"What do you think?" 

Donna slipped her fingers into the cleft, easily finding Jules’ throbbing clit, which she stroked lightly. Jules’ eyes drifted shut as her head lolled to one side, shivers of pleasure coursing through her body. Donna let her fingers circle Jules’ clit, but she held back from entering her, even as the other woman’s moans grew more insistent.

“Please,” Jules whimpered, another shudder running through her. Her hands found Donna’s breasts, plucking and rolling the rosy nubs without a hint of her prior hesitation. 

"No rushing. Drawing it out is the best fix for your problem." It would also prolong the moment, Donna thought, filled with guilt that she wanted to do so. Touching Jules like this was as beautifully overwhelming as seeing a Rembrandt for the first time and she wanted to savor every moment of it. 

"There’s slowing it down and then there's torturing me." 

Donna deliberately slowed her pace even more, drawing a frustrated noise from Jules.

"Don’t make me beg." 

"Maybe I want to hear you beg," Donna said, noting the flush that raced to Jules cheeks as she continued her ministrations. "And maybe you like begging," she whispered, continuing her agonizingly languid movements as she bent to kiss Jules's neck.

"The question isn't if I like begging," Jules mumbled breathlessly. "It’s if you'll be able to deal when the tables are turned."

Donna laughed. "That didn't sound like 'please.'"

"Fine. Please." 

Donna kissed her, then pulled away to hold her gaze while she parted her folds and slowly pushed into her. 

Jules was shocked at the sensations running through her as Donna slowly filled her. Her whole body was throbbing. Jolts of electricity flowed through her limbs as Donna began to rock inside of her. She’d always written off this activity as mere foreplay, but the feeling of being filled, stretched and stroked was exquisite. The pressure was building low in her abdomen, threatening to explode at any moment. 

Jules was close, achingly close, to complete overload and release. She struggled to keep quiet, to remember where they were, but her mind was dangerously close to shutting down rational thought altogether. 

Donna shifted and the change in sensation made Jules moan with pleasure. Seconds later, Donna's free hand was gently covering her mouth.

"Shhhh." Donna shifted again, trapping the smaller woman against the lockers. 

Jules whimpered and nodded. She teetered on the edge of her release for a moment as Donna's movements shifted subtly from the gentle rhythm to a rougher, more frantic pace. The locker doors began to rattle but while at least one of the women noted it, neither one wanted to stop. 

Jules's muscles were fluttering and clenching around Donna's fingers. Donna hooked one arm around Jules, pulling her close as she shifted her hip to add to the force of her thrusts. Her thumb found Jules' clit, each movement of her body adding delicious friction. 

Jules struggled to form words, but abandoned them as Donna withdrew completely then entered her with three fingers. She cried out at the strange mix of pain and pleasure as she squirmed, trying to escape while simultaneously needing to be closer. Donna was inside her, fingers buried deep in her aching pussy, tongue thrusting between her lips, but Jules wanted more. 

Before she could rationalize herself out of it, Jules had popped the last two buttons, roughly pulling Donna to her. She gasped as her shirt fell open and skin slid against skin for the first time. Donna moaned into her mouth, fingers curling inside her as her walls quivered around them. 

One moment Jules was trapped on the edge, panting and writhing, and the next she'd soared over the peak. A rush of electricity coursed through her body, curling her toes and pushing a quiet sob from her chest. Her vision went dark as she gasped for more oxygen and her mind went beautifully and utterly blank. 

Jules's knees buckled, but Donna held her securely against the locker until her breathing slowed and her eyes drifted open again. As Jules reached for her, twining fingers in her hair while the other hand roamed her body. She reversed their positions so Donna's back was against the lockers. 

Donna covered Jules's wandering hand with one of her own, stilling her movements. "This was about you."

"I want to." Jules kissed her, a light touch meant to reassure. “Please.”

There was a long moment before Donna nodded. Jules reassuringly caressed the bare skin directly under her hand before allowing herself to begin to explore. 

After spending some time discovering the quirks of Donna’s body, Jules grew bolder. She pushed Donna's underwear down and began to stroke her. Her movements were clumsy at first, but soon she found a rhythm. 

"You sure you've never done this before, Callaghan?" The words struggled through ragged, gasping breaths. Jules laughed, then smiled broadly at the woman who stood, flushed in front of her. 

"If I'm going to do something, I'm going to be the best at it," she replied as her fingers slowly slid into the tight wetness of Donna's center, eliciting a loud moan that was equal parts surprise and satisfaction. 

And yet moments later Donna's mind was in a half-dozen places at once. Anxiety gripped at her throat even as Jules moved inside of her, the intense pleasure colliding with the sudden panicked thought that things between them would never be the same. They would see each other, perhaps even have friendly conversation, but it would be awkward and the conversations would all end with Jules leaving to go home to Sam. 

Which was as it should be, Donna rationalized. This moment, no matter how incredible, wasn't real. It was just the inevitable consequence of the choices she'd made--- the whiskey, the voyeurism, the misguided attempt to comfort Jules when in reality she was the one who was broken.

"You’re thinking too much," Jules said quietly, shaking Donna out of her reverie. 

"Maybe."

"What about?"

Donna's breath caught in her throat as she tried to come up with a good lie. "I have a beautiful reproduction of a Rembrandt."

"And?"

"And I love it, but sometimes I forget how amazing the real thing can be."

"So is this the reproduction or the Rembrandt?" Jules asked quietly, pressing the length of her body against Donna's. 

"You’re a Rembrandt."

Jules blushed, then pulled away. "Change of scenery," she explained quickly, leading Donna back to the sparring mat. She pulled Donna down with her, tangling their limbs together. She began to touch again, drawing out the moment this time. 

Donna slipped her hand between them and slid it along Jules's slit, slipping easily between her slick lips. Jules gasped as fingertips brushed her still-sensitive clit. 

Donna relished the feeling of Jules on top of her and inside her. She entered her again, almost reaching her peak when she heard the cry that broke from Jules's lips. 

Jules rocked back and forth on Donna’s hand, greedy for more pleasure. Her shirt was open, exposing the tattoo and the scar, neither of which made her any less of a work of art to Donna. Perfect tiny sniper hands fucking her, perfect mouth gasping for breath, perfect hair for Donna to grab and drag her down, pressing their lips together to muffle sounds of abandon. 

Skin on skin, tongues dueling, fingers thrusting, moans swallowed whole, muscles clenching around her hand as Jules rapidly approached a second peak, Donna lost all focus as her orgasm loomed. She was fucking the most incredible woman shed ever seen, and getting fucked by her, and she thought of every other way she wanted to fuck Jules, with her eyes across the station and with her mouth in the locker room shower and with a strap on on the rug in front of her Rembrandt. 

She opened her eyes and Jules was there, looking back, face contorting as she fought for control. Donna tried to keep her eyes open, to memorize as much of Jules as she could, but her orgasm hit like a freight train and she had to fight to keep from screaming as she road out the crashing waves. 

She wrenched her eyes open again as Jules began to fall apart. Her body stiffened as she came, pressing her free hand to her mouth to force herself to stay quiet. Jules thrashed, then collapsed on top of Donna, gasping for breath.

They were very still for several moments before Jules slowly withdrew from inside her. Donna did the same, half-expecting Jules to bolt for the door as soon as the post-orgasm clarity hit. 

Jules shifted her body, but instead of getting up, she merely rearranged her limbs so that they intertwined with Donna's. They laid that way until the chirp of Jules' cell phone broke the moment.

"It’s late, I should go." Jules said, standing and starting to hastily pull her clothes back on. She checked the message she'd received and frowned. "He says he's sorry he overreacted. He wants to make it up to me." 

Donna avoided her gaze and focused on gathering her things. After she was fully dressed, she forced herself to look up and the guilt she saw on Jules' face slammed into her like a bullet to the vest.

"You should get home," she said. Donna searched for the right words, but when they didn't come, she pressed on anyway. "Remember, this never happened."

"Can you really go on as if that's true?"

"No. But I can keep my mouth shut, if that's what you're asking."

"It wasn't." 

More silence, and finally Donna couldn't help but ask the question.

"Are you going to tell him?"

"I don't know."

"Just promise you'll warn me if he's going to show up at my doorstep with a Glock."

"Don't worry, he'd show up at your doorstep wanting to talk about it."

"I'd rather the Glock."

Both women laughed for a moment and Jules absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind Donna's ear. 

As Jules turned to leave, Donna closed her eyes and decided that she regretted none of it, even if she had more of a chance of owning a Rembrandt than she did of finding a woman who could hold a candle to Jules. She stayed that way until Jules spoke.

"Donna? I hope I get to see your Rembrandt sometime," she said quietly as she pulled the door closed behind her.


End file.
